thoughtbubble

2007-07-30T18:22:00.000-07:00

This is a lot of fun! My nephew, Gabriel Josiah, was born July 20, a little more than a week ago. He's a beautiful baby! Now we are waiting for my little brother or sister to make his/her arrival in early August. It will be interesting watching Evan, Gabriel, and their younger aunt/uncle growing up side by side.

2007-06-02T14:09:00.000-07:00

Some little girls have imaginary friends. Lydia, on the other hand, has imaginary family. One would think she would have plenty of family, being one of ten, already the Aunt of our fifteen month old nephew Evan (Geoff and Abi's little guy), another nephew, (Ben and Ashley's baby) on the way, and Mom due with our eleventh sibling a little less than a month later than Ashley. But she has several imaginary family members. "Mary" was the first imaginary sister, and is pronounced more like "Mowy". "Mowy" had to go pick up her grandfather at the beach, because he was eaten and spat out by a shark. The reason Mowy's grandfather is not her grandfather is because "he's fifty years old" as she informed us in shocked tones; apparently that's to old to be her grandfather. Mowy's husband's name is Sarah Jane. Another sister's name is Caleb, and Caleb is mad that she got a boy's name.
Kendra pointed out something interesting about it the other day. It's not so very strange that she should have an imaginary family, for she hears about all these different people that Dad and Micah and Kendra work with that have nothing to do with her. Therefore, she makes up her own people, and meshes it with the stories and people she hears about from her older family members. As an example, this is a conversation she had with Micah recently.
Lydia: "Tell everybody at work I love them."
Micah: "Okay. Do you even know anyone from my work?"
Lydia: "Um... ya.
Micah: "Who do you know?"
Lydia: "Um... Dan."
Micah: "There's not a Dan where I work."
Levi, trying to help Lydia, told her to say Jonathan.
Lydia: "Jonathan."
Micah: "You don't know Jonathan."
Lydia: "Yes! My sister is married to him."
Micah: "Jonathan isn't married."
Lydia: "Yes. My sister married him. You can ask him."
Micah: "Okay, I'll ask him."
Pause...
Lydia: "If he says no, then maybe I'm wrong."
She's quite a funny three year old.

2007-05-25T12:22:00.000-07:00

This is a list of quotes from a few members of the Cauble household over the past while.

Breanna: "I think that when I grow up, I'm going to name my kids after salad dressings; I mean, "Catalina" is a great name!"

Toby: "In a couple weeks I'll be nine. The world shall be open to me! It shall reveal to me its pleasures!"

Breanna, on learning how to make potholders: "Will this be called, 'Hannah helped me make it,' or, 'I made it?'"

Lydia: "I need a book wif letters, cause I can wead it pofectly."

Breanna, on seeing a picture of Princess Diana: "She's a princess? She doesn't have a poofy dress or a crown!"

Breanna recently learned to read, and on picking up Kendra's French bible and trying to read it: "Your's doesn't work!"

Toby to Mom: "Am I debt free?"

Breanna, on why she's scared of thunder: "It makes the earth tremble."

Lydia, on having milk gravy and buscuits: "Gravy dy fafefulness. That's a gravy song."

Lydia was explaining why she couldn't do several of the things Mom suggested she could do to play, saying, "I tried."
Mom: "So you need a nap?"
Lydia: "No, I just tired of doing things you ask me to."

Breanna went to Mom and Dad's room early in the morning. Mom asked her why she came down, and she said: "I'm alone up there. Hannah's up there and Lydia's up there but they're asleep so they're not really there."

Breanna: "Is that movie, "Megafloods" true?"
Mom: We don't really know. Some might be, but some isn't."
Breanna: "What about the Exodus movie?"
Mom: "It's the same way. Some's true, some's not."
Breanna: "What about the housecleaning one?"

Mom was asking Levi and Toby what the definition of an emergency was. Lydia answered for them, "An emergency is when your house is almost completely burned up, or there're dead people around."

Lydia: "I am not a tattle! I gon tell Mom!"

2007-05-10T15:05:00.000-07:00

The wind howled ominously, as it pushed large frothing waves up the side of the small tossing ship. Passengers waited uneasily, as they huddled in their cabins, ready to fill the lifeboats if needed. Quietly aware that these could be his last moments on earth, the young journalist on board sat reflecting on his short, but full life. After finding the sailors scurrying around on deck, he had sought solitude in his cabin, to bask in the despair of these seemingly endless last moments. He sat leaned back in his chair gazing at nothing for several moments. He had received his share in life- the sorrows and fears of the world, the happiness and joys dealt out for each individual person. He had known many writers to refer to death as a bittersweet thing, and he felt he must agree with them wholeheartedly. He had always thought he would die at a young age, at his peak with great potential. Yet he had never fantasized a death for himself so tragic as this. Straightening up, he drew a piece of paper from where he kept a pile on his bunk. He slowly set it on his desk, his movements weak, and deliberate. He retrieved his pen and ink, then sat bent over his table, intent on recording his last melancholy moments. His mind began to wander over his past, as he thought of his mother, sister, and two younger brothers. They would be so heartbroken, when they heard that he had died on a sunken ship. With so many thoughts and emotions going through his head, he began to write, his hand pausing only when something was knocked over due to the rocking of the ship. As he wrote, the words began to form themselves into his last tidings to his mother.
"There are so many thoughts running through my head," he wrote, "that there is no possible way to keep up with them. My heart is throbbing with such emotion that I feel it will choke me. In this little cabin sits a man, calm in the face of certain doom. I have no regrets. I hope you shall be proud of me mother, for I leave this world bravely, in strength. Do not weep for me. I have done my best in life, and hope that you have seen me as the affectionate son that I am; kind, ever obliging, and so forth." The tears glistened in his eyes. He continued writing, "At my memorial service please put as my epitaph, 'Here lies a young man who was pleasing to all, and shall be well missed by many.' Please tell those who attend the service that it is best this way. Though I know they will be filled with remorse at my death, tell them that though they have reason to be sorrowful, I wish them to continue on in their lives as before, but to never forget their friend and comrade, David Lawson." The tears slipped down his cheeks, unchecked, and a sob escaped his throat.
Suddenly his cabin door swung open. He looked up, absently wiping his eyes.
In the doorway stood the ship's Captain, eyeing him worriedly.
"Aye, " exclaimed the Captain, "somethin' wrong matey?"
The journalist opened his mouth to answer, then stopped, for he had forgotten what exactly was causing him to weep, besides the fact that he was to be wept for.
"Well," he croaked, "they'll be crying for me."
"Cryin' for yis? Why?"
"Because... they're going to miss me... and... they love me... and...." The Captain looked at him queerly. "Miss ye? Who?"
"My family... they will be heartbroken when they hear I've died on a sunken ship." he choked on the lump in his throat.
"A sunked ship-?" The Captain's eyes grew wide with realization, and he burst into guffawing laughter.
"We ain't drownin' sonny! Fact I was comin' to check the cabins afore the gangplank was let up. We're in t' 'arbor!"

The Captain stood on the deck of the ship as the last passengers trailed down the gangplank. He glanced over his shoulder and began chuckling to himself as he watched the sniffling Lawson reach into his pocket for a handkerchief, wipe his damp eyes, hiccup, and blow his nose with a honking sound for the eighth time since he had come up from the ship's hull three minutes before.
"He jus' goes 'n gets hisself all worked up 'n' emotional for a wee bi' o' hefty weather. Jus' a wee bi' o' hefty weather," he muttered, stroking his beard, "an' he's down in t' 'ull of t' ship cryin' 'is eyes out. Jus a wee bit o' hefty weather..." His voice trailed off, as he tipped his head up towards the bright sky and began to shake with uncontrollable laughter.

Sitting in the parlor with a book on his lap back at his mother's home, David Lawson stared out the window into his family's orchard. He had in truth, been brooding over the events of late, for he had been rather disappointed that he had not at least half drowned- the day's turn of events would not look half so well in an autobiography. He had so hoped to be able to say that he valiantly fought the waves until help came, or he drifted to some island like Robinson Crusoe, bravely enduring great lonesomeness and fear. It would have made such a touching story. But alas, he had left the ship in good health, the sound of the Captain's laughter ringing in his ears. Ah, twas the bitter end of tragedy not struck!
He shook his head sadly, and resumed reading.

2007-02-13T14:23:00.000-08:00

thoughtbubble
I have found my new passion. I see my brothers Levi and Toby split wood all the time, but had never tried it myself. I did the other day though, and am now stuck in the art. It's quite fun! Slightly abnormal for a favorite pastime, but fun.

2007-01-23T19:00:00.000-08:00

"Waiting to be Brilliant..."

I said it sounded like a band name. Kendra said it was an excercise in futility. I was trying to explain to her why I have to think about something forever before writing it, even if I'm not trying to smooth out anything in particular. If I write something too soon and it's not exactly how I wanted it, but I don't know what's wrong with it, it's difficult for me to write it again. She said, "So you're waiting to be brilliant," and I agreed, "yes, something like that." She warned me in sisterly fashion that it was hopeless and excersising futility- she had been waiting all her life and it still hadn't happened.
Oh, well. I guess I shall just have to continue waiting futilely so that when I write I feel like I've accomplished something because of the waiting that went into it.

2006-11-20T18:03:00.000-08:00

And the Government shall be upon Their Shoulders...

Now, schools have started banning chasing games and tag during recess, because they lead to cuts, scrapes, bruises or worse when students run into each other...
There must be a better alternative. Mom suggests that children wear rubber vests so that they just bounce off of each other if they collide.
Yes, that would do nicely. They could be advertised as Rubber Baby Buggy Bumpers (say that three times real fast). Maybe parents should all get metal collars for their children that zap them when they come into hard contact with other children or objects. Yes, a child zapper is the answer. It would be quite beneficial. There would be fewer collisions because of the new careful awareness of students to avoid these run ins and the shock that comes with it. Maybe a force field is the answer. Maybe the government should get more involved in protecting kids with that technology rather than limiting their game options during recess. That way it would just be impossible for kids to collide in the first place.
Or, we could stop acting like scrapes and occasional bruises are life altering and just let kids play tag.

2006-10-26T18:33:00.000-07:00

thoughtbubble
"Superfluousness abounds...

I've been wondering of late why certain phrases when expressing one's feelings are commonly used, have always been used and probably always will be used, but simpler, less poetic ways of saying certain things...just don't work. For instance, if a relative is leaving for a while, it would be proper to say, (in a book anyway) "I shall weep night and day until your return." But if you said, "my nose will run constantly in your absence", that relative might never come back again, due to avoiding you because of your...exceeding weirdness. But it makes more sense-some people have very emotional noses and they run more then their eyes when they cry. Speaking of crying, it also would be a losing statement to say, rather then, "my heart aches", "my intestines are crying". There are many more but I can't think of any others right now-it's rather odd though-saying something one way is normal, and saying something another way is-er-abnormal.
Something to ponder...

2006-10-10T14:44:00.000-07:00

thoughtbubble
Toby has an intimate attachment with his fish-they always die shortly, and he always gets another to fill his fish tank. He names them- the first three were Harlo, Doyle, and Thunder Thore. The second ones were named Aristosthenes Hercules and Andromeda Casiopia. The current specimen is a Beta named Beethoven. He is called Betafin to compliment his more reasonable attributes, but Toby informed me why he gave his latest model such a title. His name's Beethoven because "The very sight of him fills my heart with music" in a typical Toby way of putting things. He's about the only boy I know who coos to his fish. So he was very thrilled to win a gold fish at the Henry County Fair along with Levi-well, he didn't win it; the guy running it felt sorry for them when they lost, and gave them both one. All was fine and dandy until the next night after Toby was asleep, and Levi noticed his fish was floating. Mom was cringing at the thought of what the next morning would bring-Toby never mourns in quiet.
It was as expected. Mom knew when Toby was awake for the sudden eruption of mourning that broke out. After talking about the death of his fish, and being consoled, the funeral ensued. I saw some of it from my bed where I was trying to get myself up. I watched as Levi and Toby ceremoniously poured the water from the jar where the fish had been temporarily dwelling (we had not yet attained a fish bowl). Then twas heard a splat as the fish was inadvertently dropped-Levi stooped and picked it up and handed it gently to Toby, who took it and held it tenderly in his palm, gazing down upon it with love, and curiosity.
...A life lived...
They moved the funeral downstairs, where Mom could share in the precious, bittersweet moments before the fish was laid to rest.
...A life led...
The funeral ended with the final flushing.
...A life left...

2006-10-02T15:47:00.000-07:00

thoughtbubble
Kendra has such an reasonable, efficient way of doing things. The other day I was helping Lydia wash her hair, but I was afraid I'd accidentally dunk her after telling her the whole time I had her and wouldn't let her go under water. When I relayed this to Kendra, she said, "Then don't tell her you have her, just tell her to trust in the Lord."

2006-09-28T17:23:00.000-07:00

thoughtbubble
I think I work more during the night then during the day. I have been realizing the routine of my normal night. I wake up...usually around two to two forty five in the morning. I always have to know what time it is when I wake up. I put the clock back on the shelf. Was my alarm on? I take it off the shelf. Good. It's on. Well, since it's already down, I might as well make sure it's set for the right time. I might have turned it off in my sleep-or something. Oh, good. All set. Oh, I forgot. I need to check Loo and Boo. They're breathing. Back to bed. You know, I should probably check Levi and Toby. Naa. They're fine. I think.
Okay, I'll check them.
He's breathing...and he's breathing...okay. Back to bed again. Getting under the covers, I begin thinking of the frightening misfortune one could have in having a water bug crawling across their pillow in the middle of the night. That has happened before and I really do not wish to experience such a trauma again. Check the pillow. It's clear. Check my alarm clock. On. Now try to concentrate on sleeping.
That looks like a water bug on the ceiling...

2006-09-22T18:59:00.000-07:00

thoughtbubble
Isaiah 55:12

"For you shall go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and the hills before you shall break forth into singing, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands..."

It never ceases to amaze me whenever I walk outside how glorious and intricate God's creation is...how he spoke every creature and plant, substance and mineral, star and planet of this universe into being! "In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth." I've heard that all of my life, growing up in a christian family-it's so easy to take that simple, yet beautiful phrase for granted. Every bird, reptile, fish, and animal living and breathing because it pleases God for them to do so. Every plant and flower, bursting forth and budding in their splendor to the glory of God. What is even more amazing is to think that God in his love would send his son to die in my place to save me, a dark stain and blemish on his creation. If the earth is so vast and beautiful, how much more so is Christ, my Savior?
All honor, glory and praise to the King of kings!

2006-09-19T19:09:00.000-07:00

thoughtbubble
Monkey bread. The very thoughteth maketheth my soul jumpeth with delighteth. Or something.
I have to get married. Before Christmas. And my husband may NOT like monkey bread.

Because:
It is possible that my Aunt Debbie Joe will make every family in the family a monkey bread. She makes the absolute best monkey bread. But I want my own monkey bread.
For me.
And myself.
And I.

So I'll get married.

It's all quite logical.

But then, Kendra said she was going to go marry a philanthropist, and pay off a sixth of the National Debt. Except for she probably wouldn't even marry him, she would just go meet him, and since he's a philanthropist, he would give her the money anyway.

Great. Now I'm starting to feel convicted.
If she got married to a philanthropist, it would be for a good cause in helping our nation.

Hmm.
Well, okay.
You can have a pinch of monkey bread.
A SMALL pinch.

2006-09-08T19:42:00.000-07:00

thoughtbubble
Favorite quotes:
"If at first you don't succeed, skydiving is not for you."

Anonymous-at least, I don't know.

Mark Twain:
"It usually takes a good three weeks to prepare for an impromptu speech."

"I have never let schooling interfere with my education.

"I didn't attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter, saying that I approved of it."

Reverend Spooner:
"This pie is occupewed. Let me sew you to another sheet."

"It is now cistomary to cuss the bride."

"Our Lord is a Shoving Leopard."

Epitaphs:

"Listen young man, as you walk by,
As you are now, so once was I.
As I am now, so you will be,
so listen now, and follow me.

Response:

"To follow you I'll not consent
until I know which way you went."

Dave Barry
Skiing combines outdoor fun with knocking down trees with your face.

What's your favorite?

2006-08-31T18:46:00.000-07:00

thoughtbubble
Am I easily confused, or am I confusing? I've been wondering this for the past few days, because I have realized that often, when talking to friends, we become confused. Quite easily. Either we confuse ourselves trying to explain something confusing, or we are confused by the confusion that comes from being ourselves and being easily confused. I confuse myself and others because-ahem-I enjoy imensely the fun of confusing people; especially Claire. (Sorry Claire, I speak not but the truth) The problem is I confuse myself in attempting to confuse other people, and therefore, confuse myself at a higher level, and what was supposed to make sense in a bizarre confusing way, is no longer a sane confusion at all, but an insane confusion, and I confuse myself in trying to make it sound sane, and therefore, I am confused in my attempt to confuse other people, and those who I was trying to confuse, have no idea what I'm talking about, which doesn't really bother me, because if they did it would defeat the whole purpose in confusing them, so my theory in confusing them techinically worked, the problem is I confused myself along with them.
Does any of this make any sense?
I'm so confused.

2006-08-19T18:59:00.000-07:00

thoughtbubble
Shh! A brilliant thought-coming-registering-Argh! That goober thought. It popped on me.
Oh well.
Lydia. Controller of the house and supreme dictator over all that happens (in her three year old perspective). A frequent answer from Lydia if someone asks her a to do something is "How 'bout you do it?"
She cut her hair yesterday. She broke the tradition though. Rather then chopping her bangs as the rest of the family toddlers who have taken on this task, she chopped off half the hair on the back of her head. It was so bad that when Mom took her to get it fixed, the stylist responded saying, "Oh my. What are we going to do?" So now Lydia has very short hair. She's cute as a bug's ear, and technically she's not supposed to know that, but she does. The stylist almost couldn't fix it at the top, Lyd had done such a number on it.

2006-08-18T13:45:00.000-07:00

thoughtbubble
Life shall be disturbingly lonesome, already is rather, for with Micah going to Gordon, he'll be more like an occasional shadow, an impression of a brother, as he fits in with his work schedule and squirrels away in halls of learning. Big sister Kendra, even though she has already graduated, will be taking a Spanish class at Georgia State soon. I like school, and get a lot from it, but wonder why one would wish to be held once again by the bonds of education when they have already graduated? I guess it's just the best way to learn. Really the main reason I have anything against school would be that which is already stated, its taking away of my older siblings, but little more.
I recently set to work on a poem about egg and cheese and sausage biscuits. Actually how sausage biscuits surpass egg and cheese buscuits. I showed it to Micah, but I don't think he was as impressed as I was with my results. That actually was a while back, but though I have since looked at it again, I see that it's hopeless. How many characteristics can you cram into cheese? Besides mushy, yellow, sometimes green if it's moldy, and other times sickeningly rich? Even though it is good in some food. Have you ever met a graceful piece of cheese?
I give up.

My topics of writing rebel.

2006-08-17T11:21:00.000-07:00

Hi. Yup. I'm starting a blog. I am not a professional blogger (bloggess or bloggist, whatever people who do blogs are called) but I hope this will at least be acceptable. I started this blog, for one, because my best friend Claire started one. Her blog is awesome! Also cause it's nice to have a writing outlet where I can share things with other people. This blog is called thought bubble, cause I'll just be writing whatever I'm thinking about at the time.
Thought of the day:
I like popsicles. Especially Orange.

Profound, huh?